Disenchanted
by Darkest-Hearts
Summary: Matt loses the closest person he has, and all he has to find a way to heal, and Phil seems to be the only one there for him. NOT slash. Matt Hardy and CM Punk friendship. Rated T for suicidal themes.
1. Prologue

Disenchanted

Prologue

Author's Note: I don't usually write this dark, but I decided to do something different for NaNoWrimo. It will be fun to try this out. I don't own the wrestlers. The title is based off of the song "Disenchanted", and most of the chapters will be lyrics from it. If not, they will probably be from the other song this story was based from, so, I'll be sure to note if the song changes. I don't own the song, either.

The room was dark, illuminated by only the glow of the television. He moved across the room, dizzied by the unnatural light. He moved toward the dresser in the corner of the room, fumbling around for a small notepad. He picked it up along with a black ink pen and set it on top of the television.

His hand was shaky, and it was hard to see. He scribbled something down quickly, dropping the pen next to the set. His mind raced.

This had to be done. That's what he kept telling himself, he had to do it. There was no other way.

He stumbled back to the dresser, feeling around for the drawer. He found the handle and pulled it out, reaching around inside. His hand touched something cold, metal. He shivered, bringing it out of the drawer.

He felt the familiar shape, running his hand along the object and finding the grip of it. He moved his thumb gently up the back, cocking it and aiming at the television before firing. The screen shattered into sweet, beautiful shards.

He pulled the object closer to him and took a deep breath. This was it. This was what he had to do. He opened his mouth just a bit, tasting the cold air. He set the barrel to the roof of his mouth. It burned and he shut his eyes tight.

_I can't._

He gripped it tighter.

_I have to._

He cocked the gun.

_I'm sorry._

His finger moved to the trigger. One last breath.

_There's no turning back._

_This is it._

He pulled down hard.


	2. Price You Pay

Disenchanted

Chapter One

Price you pay

A/N: The title's from the song "Disenchanted". I do not own the wrestlers or the song.

"Matt," I said for what felt like the hundredth time, "Matt." He sat still, staring into space. I sighed and strained my voice as high as I could to sound female, which sounded more like female vocal chords after meeting a garbage disposal, "Oh, Matt Hardy! I love you!"

He jumped and I couldn't help the smirk that formed across my face. He turned to look at me with an odd expression, "Phil, what are you doing here?"

"Besides confessing my undying love for you?" I said sarcastically, "I haven't heard from you recently."

"How did you get in?" He looked puzzled.

"Key under the mat." I blinked. He'd told me where it was before, and besides that, it wasn't the most creative of places to hide a key. Someone could have easily broken in and robbed him, not that he was making much now, if they snuck in, there wouldn't be much to rob.

"Oh, right." He muttered.

"Why are you so spacey today, man?"

He grunted lightly, "I'm just concerned."

"About what?" I scrunched up my brow.

"Jeff, you know, I know he said he quit, but "Matt lowered his voice, "he hasn't called me back in two days. I'm scared that maybe he's back to…"

"He's probably just going through one of his angst phases." Jeff was known for shutting himself off from Matt, and just about everyone else, after quitting.

"Don't worry, he'll be okay." I managed a weak smile, and he smiled back. "So," I sat on a chair opposite of his, "how have you been?"

"Okay." He shrugged.

"Er, well, that's good."

"I guess."

"You guess?" I raise an eyebrow quizzically.

"It's been, well, weird recently." He mumbled, "I'm not really working for anyone right now, and the WWE wouldn't take me back if I paid them."

I felt sorry for Matt, he was a good guy, but he'd had some trouble, and I really didn't blame the WWE. "You've seemed really gloomy and moody recently."

"Sorry." He said apathetically.

"I'll buy you a goldfish if you promise to cheer up."

"What?" He turned to look at me, very confused.

"Doesn't everyone want a happy-go-lucky little goldfish?"

"I don't."

"Well, I didn't really want to go out and buy a fish that you might not feed, anyway. It would be cruel to the fish. Plus, I'm sure it would end up with a generic name like 'Goldie', or 'Swimmy', or 'Punk'." I said.

"Why do you think I wouldn't feed it?" He blinked. "And who would name a fish after **you**?"

"Because I've met you, Matt." I said seriously. "Plus, that would be the world's best goldfish, and probably a good companion for the first few weeks when you remembered it existed, or where it was. I'm sure you'd be able to find a way to lose the fish, tank and all."

He rolled his eyes, "I would not."

"Sure." I smiled, "Do you want to go out for dinner or anything?"

"Are we dating now?"

"No, it's just a friendly offer, I thought maybe a night where you didn't have to cook your own food would be nice."

He pondered it for a minute, "That doesn't sound bad."

"Okay, come one, I'll drive you over." I grabbed my keys out of my pocket, opened the door and walked out, Matt close behind.

I opened for the passenger's side door for him and he gave me a bit of a glare before getting in. I closed it behind him and got in on the driver's side. "So, where sounds good?"

"Anywhere, really." He mumbled.

"You're really going to regret saying that when I take you to the nearest greasy taco place."

"All right, how about Denny's?"

"Can I tell them it's your birthday?"

He shot me a glare, "I'd kill you."

I clapped my hands lightly and singing unenthusiastically, "Happy birthday, random customer. Just go ahead and order something. Happy birthday, random customer."

He rolled his eyes, "I don't remember it going like that."

"It's my version."

"Are we going or not?" He blinked.

"You're awful pushy." I put the key into the ignition and turned it, the car roaring to life.

"Sorry." He sighed.

"It's fine. Let's just go get something to eat, okay?"

"Yeah." He muttered, crossing his arms.

We didn't talk the entire car ride. Matt was acting really distant, and it was beginning to bother me. When we finally arrived, he got out of the car and stretched. "Hey, Matt?"

"Hmm?" He asked mid-stretch.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine." He sighed.

He walked inside and I followed. The restaurant was relatively empty and we were seated quickly. "I think I'll get pancakes." Matt muttered.

"You'd better not get syrup on you, I'm not going to clean it out of my car." I mumbled.

"Pushy." He looked down, grabbing something out of his pocket, "I'm going to take this call outside."

I nodded and he left, leaving me to look over the menu. The waitress walked up and smiled, "Hello, how are you?"

"I'm good." I said plainly, glaring at the menu.

"Have you decided yet?"

"Just water." I handed her the menu, "My friend will be back soon."

"Alright-y, then." She seemed awful perky to be stuck working at a Denny's.

I heard the door swing open, and a pale-faced Matt walked in. His feet shuffled and his eyes seemed lost. He walked slowly, almost zombie like, standing near the table, but not sitting down. He clutched his phone tightly with one hand.

"Matt?" I blinked.

He mumbled something.

"Matt?"

He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath, his voice quiet and almost unintelligible,

"Jeff's dead."


	3. You Won't Feel A Thing

Disenchanted

Chapter Two

You Won't Feel A Thing

A/N: I do not own the wrestlers, only the waitress.

"What?" I must have misheard him.

Matt stared at me blankly, his eyes seemed somehow hollow. He opened his mouth in an attempt to talk, shutting it immeadiatley. I didn't mishear him, that was obvious. The waitress chose that moment to approach us with her scary, too perky smile, setting a glass next to me. "What are you going to have?"

"Can I just have the bill?" I managed, stumbling over the words.

"You only ordered water." She raised an eyebrow.

"Right, right. Thanks."

"Are you all right, sir?" She blinked.

"Not really," I stood up, looking to Matt, "I'll drive you home." The waitress now raised both of her eyebrows. "Er, my friend's not feeling well."

She muttered something before walking off. Matt walked completely straight, with a blank expression stuck on his face, out to the car. I followed him, my mind raced with what he must be feeling, what I was feeling, and what I probably should have been feeling. Matt stopped to get sick near the end of the parking lot. I got into the car, and so did Matt after he was done ridding the contents of his stomach.

He sat silent for a minute in the car before breaking out into sobs. I leaned across the seat, wrapping an arm around him an awkward hug, he smelled like an odd mixture of fish and cooked apples, by the time I pulled away the front of my shirt was soaked. I had a question bugging me more than any of the other thoughts in my mind, "How did he...?" I couldn't finish the sentence.

"He killed himself." He answered through broken sobs, snapping his seat belt on. He sniffled and continued to sob, which was eerily different from his usual behaviour, almost making me want to cringe. I couldn't believe the legendary Jeff Hardy had taken his own life, it seemed so out of character for him.

I bit my lip and whispered, "Matt?"

He looked up, his face tear-stained and his eyes red and puffy. "Hm?"

"Are you going to be all right?"

He nodded, sniffling. I didn't believe him, but i started the car anyway and drove him home. Neither of us talked throughout the entire trip. When I stopped, he sat in silence for a minute before speaking, "This is so unreal."

I cocked my head to the side, "How?"

"It feels like he's not-he shouldn't be-gone. Like, maybe if I walked in his front door, he would be okay, and we could talk. Or maybe that I'll wake up and everything will be back to normal again, and Jeff will be okay, and we can laugh about what a weird dream I had." He began to sob again, "Oh, God, I can't believe Jeff's gone."

I set my hand lightly on his shoulder, "If you need to talk...I'm here." I bit my lip gently. he didn't say anything else, but nodded his head, sobbing and curling himself up a bit in the seat. I undid my seat belt, getting out and opening his door. He got out and walked inside, I followed and watched as he immeadiatley slumped on to the sofa. "Do you need anything?" I asked.

He shook his head and I stood in the doorway for a few more minutes before deciding to leave, "If you need me, call me."

"Please just stay, for an hour or two." He stuttered through tears.

I sighed quietly, "Fine." I took a seat next to him and he continued to cry. I hated seeing him like this, it was like someone had stripped away every bit of Matt and left me with another person by the same name.

"I just can't imagine," Matt sobbed, "little Jeff doing something like that." I wanted to say that Jeff wasn't that little, nor that it wouldn't have crossed his mind. Jeff Hardy didn't seem like the type to commit suicide, but he didn't seem like someone who wouldn't _think_ about it.

"I know it's hard." were the only supportive words that could come out.

"He was the most important person in the world to me."

"I know."

"I don't know what I'll do without him."

"I know."

"What can I do, Phil?"

"...I don't know."

I didn't even have to wait an hour, after thirty minutes of sitting on the sofa Matt had cried himself to sleep. It was pathetic to see him like this, and I hated to admit it. I got up from the sofa and left, locking the door on my way out. I got in my car and drove home, thinking about Matt the entire time. I couldn't get the image of him sobbing out of my head. I just hoped his brother wouldn't influence his thinking, the thought scared me. I arrived home and got out of the car, if he got upset he would call, I reminded myself. I bit my lip and hoped that he would be strong.


End file.
